


Prelude

by xensilverquill



Category: The Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gravepainters, one-sided romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1755139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xensilverquill/pseuds/xensilverquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Her scent carried on the wind, a heady medley of sugar and cempasúchil and fire. It beckoned to him, coaxed him from the darkness. Her presence was a siren song, and what could he do but answer the call?"</p><p>[A Gravepainters oneshot.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eldritch-author](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=eldritch-author).



Her scent carried on the wind, a heady medley of sugar and cempasúchil and fire. It beckoned to him, coaxed him from the darkness. Her presence was a siren song, and what could he do but answer the call?

The old god chuckled softly as he slithered through the alleys and gutters. He followed the breeze and jumped from shadow to shadow. The clouded night was the perfect companion and cover, his tar-slick body blending in almost perfectly with the gloom of the night. _It is just as well,_ Xibalba mused, _else the chase would not be half so fun._

For it was indeed a game of cat-and-mouse the two of them played. Always she was leading the way, always just out of sight and out of reach. And always he was right behind her, always just a hair's breadth away. At times she was close enough that a flex of skeletal fingers or spectral wings would have had the woman in his grasp. Yet an intangible gulf separated them as surely as the horizon separated the land from the sky. So close yet so far - the story of his life, of their relationship. (Or, rather, a lack thereof, as she was so keen on reminding him.)

The trail ended on a darkened balcony. Overcast as it was, only starlight and the green flame of his candelabrums illuminated the scene. He looked side to side, crimson eyes searching the plaza below. No sign of her - how odd. "You know I love a good game of tag as much as anyone, darling," he drawled, "but you must understand that I will catch up to you eventually."

"Only if I let you, you mean," came the laughing reply. A flurry of scarlet cloth and gold petals and she was there. Her painted face, so pale against her long raven hair, looked smugly back at Xibalba. The smirk on her lips both scraped his nerves raw and dazzled him at the same time. She just had that sort of effect on him, he supposed.

Before he even had the chance to utter a witty retort, the infuriating woman had disappeared yet again. He growled low and impatiently - excitedly - in his throat and followed not a half second after. How ever she managed to slip away so swiftly and silently in that dress and wide-brimmed had he never quite understood.

From there it was another chase across the sloping, tiled rooftops. Here she would twist around one corner, there she would flip up and over a terrace. Dodging fountains and buildings, La Muerte once again blazed a path of tight turns and slim spaces that even his slippery and emaciated body was hard-pressed to follow.

The full moon peeked at last from behind the clouds, and it was then that she stopped again. Whether or not it because she "let" him catch up again, his ego would not let him say. ~~She was always did look beautiful under moonlight.~~ In either case the game was over, for her attention was elsewhere. As in, not on him.

Well, the death god was certainly not tolerating _that_.

One stride had him facing the woman in question. Tilting his head to one side, he leaned in as if to get a better look at her face. She only arched an eyebrow at him in response, her expression distinctly bored and unamused. She stepped back an inch or two, her footing slipping just the tiniest bit on the terra cotta shingles. It was enough to send her stumbling into his wings as he furled them around her slight body.

"Careful now, love. It would hardly do for you to fall and injure yourself on the eve of _Día de Muertos._ " His wings tightened about her form more securely in emphasis of that point. Xibalba touched his temple to hers for a brief, their close contact flooding his senses with her essence. Eyes closing, he sighed quietly with pleasure. Memories flashed before his mind's eye, snapshots of sweeter, bygone age.

_Her laughter echoing through the summer night… Those scarlet-and-ember eyes flashing mischievously at him… Her lips soft and pliant against his own… A heat between them not even the sun could match…_

His ex-wife - his La Muerte - was a spirited one. Quite frankly, it was that inner spark of hers that he found to be her most damnably irresistible quality. As beautiful and fragile as she appeared outwardly, she was hardly a delicate damsel. No other woman, mortal or goddess, had her finesse and grace. Yes, she was sickeningly noble at times, but her willful and stubborn nature drew his fancy in like the proverbial moth to her light. And like fire, she was always quick to burn him.

So Xibalba was hardly surprised ~~but was left feeling no less wistful and bereft~~ when she tensed in his grasp, and the dream broke. She pushed at his chest and stepped away, brushing her shoulders and hair as if he might have dirtied them with his mere presence alone. The woman red lips curled fiercely, and she sent a glare his way. "The only possible danger to me here is you, Xibalba, and you know perfectly well that you are no threat to me." Ah, there was her anger. He laughed quietly to himself, if a bit cruelly. Any reaction from her, however annoyed, exasperated, or otherwise negative, was better than the stony silence she so often gave him. ~~It gave him some hope, at least.~~

She turned away from him with quiet huff to look through a glass skylight at their feet. During their chase she had led them to the roofs overlooking a brightly lit saloon. There was a dull roar from the the bar patrons below. Two young men - matadors, by their garb - were causing the commotion with their mock saber duel. Judging by the girl they kept making eyes at between sword strokes and said girl's unimpressed expression, the situation was all too clear.

Xibalba could not suppress a harsh cackle. Would mortals never cease to amuse him with their cliched, petty arguments? "Ah, look there," he murmured. "Two best friends..."

In spite of herself it seemed, La Muerte smiled knowingly. She shook her head and sighed with an age-old weariness. "...in love with the same girl."

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Eldritch-Author who helped to inspire this. Just a silly little something I wrote in the wee hours of the morning. Somehow it turned from a drabble to a miniature oneshot, haha. Basically my take on Xibalba and La Muerte based on the trailer and their bios on the movie site. Take another look at that trailer and tell me that Discord Xibalba isn’t at least enamored with that woman if not absolutely loco and head over heels for her.
> 
> Given what little we’ve seen in the trailer, the dynamic between these two is intriguing to say the least. I get the sense that La Muerte, while she may not hate her ex, is typically cool and calm in interactions with Xibalba, which can only annoy the trickster god when he can’t get a reaction of her. I’ve tried to portray as much in this fic (though I don’t know how good I was with that, ha).
> 
> Backstory. Yep, I really want some cannon backstory for these two. PLEASE. T^T (Although Eldritch-Author’s ideas are really awesome and are swiftly becoming my own headcannons. ^o^)
> 
> Anywho, excuse me while I go camp out at the cinema and wait for that movie to come out. Only five more months. Xen out!


End file.
